


A Man Who Lives on a Cloud

by eclairsforbreakfast



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Doctor Who AU, Gen, Time Travel, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclairsforbreakfast/pseuds/eclairsforbreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing crashed into the motel parking lot claiming it was an angel of the Lord. Dean, of course, is skeptical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man Who Lives on a Cloud

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the Doctor Who episode "The Eleventh Hour".

Dean was eight years old when it happened. He had just tucked Sammy into bed and was salting the doors and windows when he heard a crash outside. He hastily finished the line of salt and grabbed the sawed-off he kept beside his bed before cautiously approaching the door.

He ran through all the things his dad had taught him as he peered through the peephole. Where the flat, untouched parking lot used to be, a smoking, gaping hole stood in its place. Dean looked over his shoulder to check on Sam who was still asleep.

Confident that his brother was safe, Dean opened the door and stepped outside. He hoped that no one else was awake and saw some kid with a gun in his hand outside, but with the noise the thing made outside it didn’t sound like it was happening. Strangely enough, no one had heard the crash. At least, that’s what Dean thought with all the unlit rooms and lack of complaining residents. He guessed that random things falling out of the sky in the middle of the night is a normal occurrence in this town.

At the edge of the hole, Dean waved one hand in front of his face to fan the smoke away and cursed himself for not bringing a flashlight. When he saw movement in the haze he immediately trained his gun on it, careful not to shake his hands too much.

The figure coughed and stood at full height. It’s taller than Dean (most things are at his age), about six feet, but it’s nothing he hasn’t deal with before. So far, it hasn’t made a move to attack, but Dean kept his gun pointed at it.

“Who are you?” Dean demanded. The figure walked toward him. Squinting in the darkness, Dean bit back a groan of frustration. He really should’ve brought a flashlight.

Finally, a face emerged from the mist. It had the face of a man in his late 30’s. It looked normal enough but it just fell from the sky and made a huge crater in the motel parking lot.

“Who are you?” Dean growled again. The thing cocked its head to the side as if studying an interesting specimen, which Dean might as well be to it.

“Castiel,” it said. “I’m an angel of the Lord."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the tattered trench coat over the cheap business suit it wore. Its tie wasn’t even on right and its hair stuck up all over the place like it just rolled out of bed. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.” Its eyes focused on something behind him. Dean followed Castiel’s line of sight to the flickering lights that spelled out ‘Nite Owl Motel’ but some of the lights were off so it really said ’N te Ow  M   el’. The angel tilted his head at the sign in confusion before turning back to Dean and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Dean,” he answered warily. He figured that since the thing didn't kill him already he was safe. Dean could already hear his dad tearing him a new one for this. Lowering the gun slightly Dean asked, "If you're an angel, then where're your wings?"

The thing looked at something over its shoulder. "They're there. It's just that your senses are too dull to perceive them," it answered.

And Dean has no idea what it means but he's pretty sure it just insulted him. The thing seems harmless enough, they've spent five minutes together and it hasn't tried to kill him yet, so Dean figures this is a plus. He pointed the gun toward the ground now, limp in his hand.

"So," Dean started. Castiel took his gaze off the flashing neon owl and onto the boy. "You're an angel. Does this mean Heaven is real?"

"Yes," Castiel answered. "Very much so."

"And there're people there? That go up there when they die?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded and looked up to the night sky. "Yes, there are many souls up there. They each have their own personal Heaven that consists of their best memories."

"Well," Dean hesitated before going on. "My mom, Mary Winchester, she, uh, died four years ago. Is her soul up in Heaven?" He thought of what her memories would consist of. Would they be of his dad and him? Or would they be made up of moments from before either he or Sam were born?

It shook its head slightly and Dean's shoulders slumped, a lump forming in his throat. "I wouldn't know. My garrison doesn't specialize in the souls of Heaven."

Dean couldn't hold back his relieved smile. There was a chance that his mom was in Heaven and he is so telling dad this when he gets back from his hunt. "Maybe you could ask the other angels up there if they’ve see her around," he said.

The corner of Castiel's mouth turned up just a bit in an almost smile as. "Perhaps," he answered cryptically. Dean isn't sure what it meant, but he's just glad that his mom has a slight chance of being happy after all that's happened.

"What are you even doing here down on earth?" he finally asked. Castiel was the first angel he's ever seen and certainly the first supernatural being he's met that fell from the sky.

The angel met his gaze with downturned eyes. "I fell."  _Well, duh_ , Dean wanted to say, but something in Castiel's expression made him stop.

He asked instead, "What do you mean, 'fell'?"

Castiel opened his mouth to answer but a noise rumbled from his stomach before he could speak. The angel stared with wide eyes down at it and looked to Dean for an answer. All the boy could do was giggle.

"That growling noise means you're hungry," Dean explained. "Come on, I think we have some Spaghetti-O's somewhere."

Dean walked back to the motel room and Castiel wordlessly followed him. "We have to be quiet, though," Dean whispered. "Sammy's still asleep." Castiel nodded as they both walked into the unlit room.

Stepping quietly inside, Dean placed his gun back in the corner by his bed and flicked the lights on. He walked to the kitchenette and paused with his hand halfway to the cupboard when he heard Sam shift in his bed. When he was sure that the boy was sound asleep he pulled out two cans of Chef Boyardee's finest and set the stove up for cooking.

Meanwhile, Castiel stood rooted to the spot at the foot of the door. After getting a pointed look from Dean, he stepped inside and slowly closed the door behind him. Sam turned in his nest of blankets, letting out a muffled groan. Dean gave the angel another look, this one angrier than the first.

Castiel tried to mimic Dean's movements and tip-toed as best as he could to the kitchenette, but ran into a chair and toppled it over. He watched it hit the ground with a clatter as Dean winced at his spot by the stove.

"Dean?" Sam said sleepily.

 _Now look what you did!_  Dean mouthed at Castiel, then said, "It's nothing, Sammy. Just having a midnight snack. Go back to sleep."

But of course, being the curious kid that he was, Sam sat up and saw, with sleepy eyes, Dean heating up the Spaghetti-O's. "Whatcha makin'?" he yawned.

Dean made wild hand movements at Castiel to hide. The angel just squinted at him confusedly, but it was too late.

"Dean?" Sam asked, now sounding more awake.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Who's that?"

Two sets of eyes fell on Castiel, one of frustration and one of skepticism.

"This is Cas," Dean answered before the angel could speak, shortening his name because 'Castiel' was just too much of a mouthful and Dean doubted that Sam would be able to pronounce it correctly. "He's a friend of dad's, and he's gonna watch us tonight."  _Angels are watching over you_ , his mother's voice ringed in his mind. Dean chose to ignore that for the time being.

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. "I thought dad told us not to let anyone inside the room."

"Well Cas is different. He's like Uncle Bobby," Dean reassured while looking at the angel.

Seeing as that's explanation enough, Sam threw the blankets aside and swung his legs off the bed. He cladded over to Dean in the Superman pajamas their dad got him after Sam puked all over his old ones. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to get a peek at what was in the pot. Dean grabbed his forearm before he nearly toppled over, and steadied him back onto his feet.

"Whatcha makin'?" Sam asked again. His bangs flopped over his eyes as he jumped up to get another look.

Dean plopped a hand onto his shoulder and answered, "Spaghetti-O's, and if you don't stand still you're not getting any."

Sam pouted while Dean continued stirring the contents of the pot. He walked over to the table and climbed up onto a chair. His eyes just barely went over the table as he cast a look at Cas.

"Hi!" Sam greeted.

"Hello." Cas bowed his head slightly towards the boy. The younger Winchester fascinated him. He was much smaller and more open than Dean.

Sam stared at the angel's clothes. "Why is your tie on backwards?"

Cas glanced down at his poorly tied tie. It was indeed backwards. "Is it not supposed to be like that?" he asked, picking up the piece of cloth and running his fingers over it, studying it.

Before Sam could answer Dean had arrived at the table, two bowls in one hand and the pot of Spaghetti-O's in the other.

"Why don't you go get us some spoons?" Dean asked Sam. Eager to help, Sam did just that. The drawer of silverware rattled as the boy slammed it shut after grabbing three spoons. Dean got another chipped bowl from the cupboard and set the table. Meanwhile Cas watched this silent event with avid interest. Dean could practically feel the angel's gaze on him as he poured the Spaghetti-O's into each bowl.

Sam climbed back onto his chair just as Dean had taken his first bite. Sam managed to get a bite in without spilling anything, which was an accomplishment. Cas just stared at his food, cautiously holding his spoon as if it would explode at any moment. Dean wasn't an expert on angels so maybe some of their divine energy could actually make that happen. He watched him as the he chewed on his food.

"Just try it," he encouraged, pointing his spoon at the untouched bowl in front of Cas.

Cas nodded and scooped a couple of noodled onto his spoon. After another encouraging prod from Dean he put the food in his mouth.

Only to spit it back into his bowl. It wasn't even a spit; it was more of him opening his mouth and pushing the noodles out with his tongue, a looks of absolute disgust on his face.

"That was horrible," Cas stated. He put the spoon back in the bowl and pushed the bowl away from him.

Both brothers stared.

"Um... Okay then," Dean said slowly. Cas's stomach growled again and the angel glared at it. "We have other food. Not everyone likes Spaghetti-O's." Dean went to the fridge and brought back a cup of Trix yogurt and another spoon. "Here, try this." He slid both items at the angel across the table. Cas stared at it.

Dean suppressed a sigh before opening the cup and putting the spoon in it. He handed it to Cas who warily took it.

"You're supposed to mix the colors up," Sam recommended as he made a stirring motion with his hands. Cas followed suit with his yogurt cup and spoon.

The boys watched him as he brought the spoon up to his mouth. They held their breath as they awaited his reaction.

Cas spit it back into the cup. That was starting to become a habit of his.

Sam pouted. "Maybe you're just lack toast and taller ant."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You mean lactose intolerant?"

"Yeah, that." Cas had pushed the yogurt back at Dean. Unfortunately, he had to throw it away now since it was filled with angel spit. Dean wondered if angel saliva had any supernatural benefits but immediately squashed that thought.

Once disposed of, Dean came back to the table with a bowl of Lucky Charms. "You can never go wrong with cereal," he said as he placed it in front of Cas. Hopefully, he won't spit the cereal back in the bowl because that was the last of it and Dean wanted some for breakfast tomorrow.

When the cereal entered Cas's mouth it came right back out. Dean was beginning to think that maybe angels couldn't have human food and ate bird food or something like that. They both had wings, didn't they?

It seemed like all hope was lost for satisfying Cas's hunger when Sam decided to try this time.

He climbed down from his chair again and walked back to the kitchenette. "I know what he needs," he declared while rummaging the cupboards. He brought out a bag of microwave popcorn. "Popcorn and..." Sam stood on his tiptoes by the counter to point at the coffee maker. "Coffee."

Dean raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. "Are you sure about that?"

Sam nodded. "I'm sure of it. They both smell really good so they should taste good together, right?" Anyone else would question his logic, but when Dean looked at Cas, it looked like he was actually considering it.

"It does sound like a reasonable explanation," Cas said.

Dean rolled his eyes and mumbled, "You guys are crazy," under his breath, but went to set up the coffee machine anyway. As he placed the unwrapped popcorn bag in the microwave, Sam was explaining to Cas what popcorn and coffee actually was.

"It's this food that you put in the microwave and it pops and then you eat it, usually during a movie," Dean heard as the kernels popped. "That's the popping. When the microwave beeps it means it's done." Cas made a noise to show that he understood, but with Sam's garbled language and fast-paced talking, Dean doubted the angel got any of that. But who knows, maybe angels can decipher the intricate language of four year olds.

While the coffee brewed the unmistakable scent of the drink filled the air, Sam continued explaining to Cas. "And coffee is this really hot drink that wakes you up and makes you less grouchy." Dean snorted at that definition since their father was nicer once he had his usual cup of joe.

The microwave beeped and Sam jumped up to help Dean even though Dean had to get a bowl from the cupboard since Sam was too short to reach it. While Sam poured the popcorn in the bowl, (after a hasty warning from Dean that it's hot and if he burns his chubby fingers he's not kissing it better) Dean got the coffee ready. He figured that Cas didn't have a sweet tooth going by his disgust at the yogurt and sugary cereal so he kept the coffee black.

The both of them set the food in front of Cas on the wobbly motel table. Calculating blue eyes scrutinized the items in front of him, but Dean saw the corners of his mouth quirk up in an almost smile when Cas smelled it.

"Wait," Sam said, and before Dean could stop him, grasped the mug's handle with two hands and poured the coffee into the bowl of popcorn. Miraculously, none of it spilled onto the tabletop. Sam topped it off by plopping the spoon Cas used for his cereal. All Dean could do was stare open-mouthed at the concoction his brother created.

"Dude, Cas is never going to eat that crap." But Dean spoke too soon because Cas was already putting a spoonful of soggy popcorn in his mouth. Dean waited for the inevitable spitting up of the food but surprisingly it never came. Cas was actually going in for another bite, a satisfied smile on his face.

Dean looked at Sam to see his reaction and was met with a smug smirk. "Told you he'd like it," Sam said.

"It is quite good," Cas agreed, already on his fourth mouthful.

Seeing as they have nothing else to do, Sam and Dean settled back in their seats to finish their (now cold) Spaghetti-O's.

Suddenly, Cas straightened in his seat and stared at the wall, looking like he was staring at something past it. The chair screeched on the floor as the angel hastily stood up.

"Whoa, where are you-"

"I apologize for intruding," Cas interrupted. Dean opened his mouth to tell him otherwise but he continued, "I must go."

"Wait!" Sam shrieked. It managed to get both Dean and Cas's attention and the two looked at the boy. "Are we ever gonna see you again?"

Dean had mostly only ever seen Cas's face as the blank mask he usually wore, but he could've sworn that the angel had a look of regret as he answered Sam. "When you need me most, I'll be there."

And with a blink he was gone. Dean heard Sam gasp beside him and he followed his line of sight to see that the bowls on the table were gone. They checked the cupboards and there they were, clean and looking like they did the day before. Dean looked outside, positive that Cas couldn't have fixed the giant, gaping hole in the parking lot, but it was back to its original untouched state.

The stunned silence that filled the room was broken by Sam's yawn. Dean looked at the clock to see that it was nearly past midnight.

"Alright. Time to go back to sleep." Dean ruffled Sam's hair and steered him towards the bed.

Sliding under the scratchy sheets, Sam asked, "Is Cas ever coming back?"

Dean turned the lights off and got into his own bed before answering, "I don't know, Sammy. I don't know."

 

* * *

 

Dean had thought it was all a dream until Sam told their dad all about Castiel the next day and how he had a backwards tie and didn't know what popcorn was and wow dad, why didn't you tell us that Cas was your friend? To say that their dad had been furious would've been an understatement. He paced the length of the room as he ranted and raved about the dangers of letting complete strangers into the motel room and how irresponsible Dean had been. Said boy didn't get a chance to mention the fact that there was a chance that his mother was in Heaven.

He chose to never mention the angel around his father again.  
  
The only reassurance that Cas was even real was whenever Sam asked about him occasionally when they were alone. Pretty soon, though, he stopped asking because it was obvious the angel wasn't coming back.

 

* * *

 

Cas had said that he would be there when they needed him most. So when Sam went missing for two weeks Dean was sure that Cas would crash in again to help him find his brother. He never came.

The year Sam went off for college was the year that Dean felt he needed Cas the most. But still, he never showed.  
  
When dad went missing, Dean nearly considered calling (praying?) to Cas. They were literally following nothing, and he suspected that Sam forgot about the angel, but Dean never had.  
  
He was positive that he would come back when his father died because even Sam couldn't help him cope. Dean started to resent the angel while he grieved. Out of all the times that they needed him, they were met with radio silence.  
  
Sam died. Cas was still God knows where. Dean didn't even bother giving the angel a second thought because it was clear that he didn't care about them.  
  
Not even Dean dying and going to Hell went noticed by Cas. It was an angel named Uriel that pulled him out and Dean hated Cas even more. With the whole angels and demons, Heaven vs. Hell thing going on, it was hard for Dean to forget about him.  
  
It was Zachariah of all people that confirmed the existence of Cas. Dean was dreaming of the night that they first met when Zachariah, the bastard that he is, decided to dream hop into his memory. It was the first time that Dean had ever seen the smarmy angel look genuinely surprised. He heard the angel mutter, "So that's where Castiel has been," or something along those lines and then promptly disappeared.

Sam was keeping secrets. Cas didn't show. Dean hated the angels.

 

* * *

 

Dean sits at the table in another run-down motel room. He scours the web for any demonic activity while Sam gets them food. Ever since Uriel told him that he was the one responsible for breaking the first seal, Dean has stopped at nothing to try and rectify this. And the fact that more seals are being broken more frequently is what motivates Dean to get information on just how to stop Lilith.

There's a knock on the door and Dean knows it's not Sam because he has a key. He reaches for the gun at the waistband of his jeans as he walks toward the door and opens it.  
  
"Hello, Dean." And Cas shouldn't be here; he disappeared years ago and made it clear that he wasn't returning. Dean is left jaw-slack, staring at the angel that looks just like he did all those years ago. Cas's eyes flicker up and down Dean's body. "You've grown," he states.  
  
Finally getting his bearings together, Dean whips out his gun, points it at the angel, and cocks it before Cas can say another word.  
  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you in the head right now," he growls. He's reminded of that night, his unpracticed hands shaking as he pointed his sawed-off on the figure rising from the smoke.  
  
Cas doesn't even blink as he replies, "I don't think it would be wise to discharge your weapon in a heavily populated area. Especially since it would only cause complaints from the adjacent lodgers."  
  
Dean grinds his teeth and reluctantly clicks the safety back on before putting the gun back in his waistband. "What are you doing here?" he asks roughly and turns his back to Cas to walk back into the room.  
  
Cas follows him inside (even has the courtesy to shut the door behind him) and answers with another question. "How long has it been?"  
  
Dean turns sharply around to glare into the angel's stupid, unnaturally blue eyes. He keeps his hands balled up into fists tight to his side to prevent himself from throttling the angel. "It's been 22 years," he says through clenched teeth. "Where the hell have you been?"  
  
"You're angry. Why are you angry?" Cas asks.  
  
And Dean has had enough. "Well of course I'm angry!" he yells, throwing his hands up in exasperation and starts pacing the room. "You disappeared all of a sudden saying you'd be there when we needed you most! Where were you when my dad died, huh?! Or Sam?! Or, hell, what about when I died and went to fucking  _HELL_?! Some other angel had to pluck me out of there after  _40 fucking years!_  Where were you when all those angels were on our asses?! It took the  _fucking apocalypse_  to get you to come back! So yeah, I'm a little angry." His knuckles are white and his breathing is heavy as he watches Cas through narrowed eyes for an answer.  
  
The angel doesn't meet his eyes, instead chooses to stare at the ground. "I didn't realize I was that long," he says quietly.  
  
"What? Did you forget about us? Were our 'earthly' problems not important enough for you?" Dean goes on.  
  
"Dean," Cas meets his eyes and something in his gaze makes Dean shut up. "Time moves differently in Heaven."  
  
"So, what are you trying to say? That you were in Narnia?"  
  
"No, I was in Heaven."  
  
Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I get that."

"I never forgot about you or Sam," Cas continues. "You two were one of the first humans I've met in a long time. I couldn't return because I rebelled; I was hunted. The both of you were far too young to be involved in that."  
  
"You didn't think to let us know that?"  
  
Cas shakes his head sadly. "If I did, Heaven would've surely found you."  
  
Dean opens his mouth in a reply when he heard the door unlock and Sam entering, arms laden with brown paper bags and sipping on a drink. The minute he sees the angel standing next to Dean, he freezes.  
  
"Who is this?" Sam asks cautiously and slowly sets the paper bags and drink onto the rickety table. Dean's pretty sure the only reason Sam doesn't pull his own gun on the angel is because Dean isn't at the moment.  
  
"Hello, Sam," Cas greets.  
  
Sam furrows his brows. "Have we met before?" Sam asks, looking him up and down.  
  
"You're the one who taught me about popcorn." Out of all the things Cas could've said, he chooses that. Dean suppresses the urge to laugh because he's still pretty pissed at him.  
  
Sam's eyes soften in recognition as he remembers just who the man-- _angel_ , Dean corrects mentally-- in front of him is. "I thought you were never coming back. I prayed to you, man," Sam says. Dean's eyebrows shoot up. He knew that Sam prayed. He just assumed that he was praying to God or Jesus or whoever people prayed to these days.  
  
Cas looks down, and Dean sees that he's almost sheepish. "I apologize. I didn't realize that so much time had gone by since we first met."  
  
"Apparently Heaven's like Narnia," Dean chimes in. Cas does that same head-tilt he did from that night and Dean does not find it endearing, nope.  
  
"Why are you here?" Sam asks. Dean turns his head toward the angel.  
  
"Yeah, man," Dean says. "I thought you were Heaven's Most Wanted."  
  
Sam opens his mouth, probably wondering exactly how much he missed when Cas answers, "I need your help."  
  
And Dean can't hold it in this time. He lets out a humorless, bitter laugh. "That's rich coming from you."  
  
"What do you mean?" Cas narrows his eyes at Dean.  
  
"Oh, you know, it's just -- I prayed to you, too, okay. I asked for your help with Sam going to Stanford, Dad going missing, Dad  _dying_ , Sam  _dying_ , me dying. I needed you, Cas!" Dean isn't sure where that outburst came from but he doesn't seem able to stop. "And now you're asking for our help? I'm sorry, buddy, but I'm not buying what you're selling."  
  
"Dean," Sam says warningly. Dean ignores Cas's gaze and instead looks at his brother.  
  
"What?"  
  
Sam rolls his eyes and huffs -- actually huffs. He grabs Dean by the elbow and drags him to the other side of the room. Dean's back is to Cas while Sam sends the angel a strained smile over Dean's shoulder.  
  
"I think we should help him," Sam says in a hushed tone.  
  
Dean stares incredulously at him. "Are you-" he starts to say in a loud voice, but quickly lowers it when he turns to glance at the angel. "Are you serious?"  
  
Sam looks at Dean with wide eyes, trying to get him to understand. "Dean, come on. He's not like the other angels, that much is obvious. And he's asking us for help rather than those dicks. Would you rather he go to Uriel for help? Or Zachariah?"  
  
The thought of Cas reaching out to the very ones that are hunting him makes Dean shudder. "No," he says. Looking behind him, Dean sees Cas watching them with that squinted look he always seems to have.  
  
Dean recalls back to the night Cas told him that his mother might be up in Heaven. He realizes that since the angel was supposedly on the run and knew he could never go back, he never asked any of the others up there if they've seen her. Yet, he still reassured Dean that he would ask around.  
  
Dean turns back to Sam. "Fine," he gives in. "We'll help him."  
  
Sam's mouth stretches into a dopey grin and Dean thinks that maybe Sam never actually did forget about Cas. He's just about to turn around and tell Cas their decision but it turns out the angel is right behind him (a little closer than necessary).  
  
"Thank you," Cas says, nodding towards the two. "I appreciate the two of you helping me."  
  
"Don't think you're off the hook for ignoring us all this time," Dean says, pointing a finger at the angel. "It's gonna take a lot more than 'I'm sorry' to earn our forgiveness."  
  
Cas looks down as he replies, "Of course, I will do my best to redeem myself to you."  
  
Sam opens his mouth but before he can say anything Dean claps his hands and says, "Great. Glad we got all that figured out."  
  
Shooting an exasperated face at his brother, Sam asks, "So, do you know anything about how to stop Lilith from breaking the seals?"  
  
"There's been chatter about Lilith searching for an appropriate location to break the final seal," he reports.

Sam clenches his fists and fidgets where he stands. “What is it?”

“‘The first demon will be the final seal.’” Cas quotes. He purses his lips and continues, “It will be… difficult.”

Dean flashes him a cocky grin. “We’ve dealt with plenty of demons before,” he drawls.

The angel shakes his head and meets Dean’s gaze. “Lilith is the final seal,” he says in a voice that would make gravel jealous.

Dean’s grin falls and they’re left in tense silence. “So how are we going to stop Lilith and keep her from starting the apocalypse?” Sam asks, looking back and forth between Cas and Dean.

“Like I said,” Cas states. “It will be difficult. Which is why I will need your assistance.” He starts fiddling with the belt of his oversized trench coat— the same one he wore that night, and Dean wonders if it still has sauce on it from when Cas wiped his mouth across the sleeve after eating those Spaghetti-O’s. He looks up at Cas's face before he can get an answer.

“Well,” Dean says, “It looks like we better get started.”


End file.
